I Hope That I Dont Fall In Love With You
by ladyk1109
Summary: Kurt has been harboring for years a stupid and really painful crush for Rachel's older brother Blaine. And ever since that kiss ten years ago, he has done everything to keep Blaine far away from his life. But now he is back, and has every intention of not stopping at just one kiss.  Anderberry! / Model!kurt!
1. Prologue

**Hello my lovely readers, I haven't abandoned my other history yet :D this one just came to my head and didn't want to leave until I put it in paper so…. here it is hope you guys like it and my apologies for making my Blaine taller that in cannon I just like my man that way.**

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

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><p>KURT HUMMEL stood at the very ornate stone font where his two-month-old goddaughter was being christened.<p>

The holy water was being poured onto her forehead as the priest said a blessing in Spanish.

The ceremony was achingly beautiful, in a tiny ancient chapel in the grounds of his best friend and sister in law Rachel's new home, a stunning château just outside Madrid.

Kurt had been at her wedding to his brother Finn, in this same chapel just nine months ago, as "maid" of honour. _(The thing's he had to do because Rachel had otherwise no female friends at all)._

And yet this moment in which Kurt wanted nothing more than to focus fully on the christening was being upstaged effortlessly by the tall man who stood to his right.

Blaine Anderson.

Kurt tried to stem the pain, hating that it could rise here and taint this beautiful occasion, but he couldn't seem to stop it.

He was the man who had crushed his innocent ideals, hopes and dreams.

The man who had shown him a moment of explosive sensuality and in the process ruined him for all other men.

And yet Kurt knew he had no one to blame but himself.

If he hadn't been so determined to …. Kurt ruthlessly crushed that line of thinking.

It had happen so long ago he couldn't believe it still affected him so much, that it still felt so fresh.

That still hurt so much.

But Despite his best efforts to block Blaine out, Kurt could feel the heat from his large body envelop him, his scent wind around him, threatening to burst open a veritable Pandora's Box of memories.

The familiar weight of desire Kurt felt whenever he was near Blaine lay heavy within him, a pooling of heat in his belly, between his legs.

Usually he was so careful when it came to avoid him, but he couldn't here … now.

Not at this intimate ceremony where they were being made godparents in this traditional ritual.

He couldn't give up now, he had survived the wedding; he'll sure as hell survive this. And then walk away and hope that one day Blaine wouldn't affect him so much.

But just how long had he been hoping for that?

A sense of futility washed through him… especially as he recognised that if anything his awareness of Blaine was growing exponentially stronger.

Kurt´s jaw was tight from holding it so rigid, his back as straight as a dancer's.

He tried to focus on Rachel and Finn. But they were oblivious to all except themselves and their baby. Finn took Barbra tenderly from the priest, cradling her easily with his giant hands.

He and Rachel looked at one another over their daughter's head, and that look nearly undid Kurt completely.

It was so private; so full of love and hope and earthy sensuality, that it felt voyeuristic to be witnessing it.

And yet Kurt couldn't look away or stop his aching heart to clench with a bittersweet pain, momentarily and shamingly jealous of what they shared.

This was what Kurt wanted.

This was all he'd ever wanted.

A fulfilment that was so simple and yet so rare.

Blaine shifted beside him, his arm brushing against Kurt´s, making him tense even more rigidly. Against his will he looked up at Blaine; he couldn't stop himself.

Kurt had always been drawn him, like a helpless moth to the certain death of a burning flame.

Blaine was looking down at him and Kurt's heart stopped, his breath faltered. Blaine frowned slightly, an assessing look in his gaze as he seemed to search deep within Kurt´s soul for his secrets.

He had looked at Kurt like that at the wedding, and it had taken all his strength to appear cool and composed.

Blaine was looking at him as if trying to figure something out.

Figure him out.

Kurt´s feelings were so raw in that moment…too raw after witnessing Rachel and Finn's sheer happiness and love.

It was worse than the wedding.

Kurt had no defence here with a tiny baby involved…a tiny baby he'd held in his arms only a few moments ago.

Holding that baby had called to the deepest, most primitive part of him.

Normally he coped so well, but with Blaine looking at him so intently his protective wall of icy defence was deserting him spectacularly, leaving in its place nothing but heat.

And he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Kurt´s eyes dropped betrayingly to Blaine´s mouth. He quite literally hurt for one of his kisses, with the intense need to let Blaine hold him.

Love him.

Look at him the way Finn had just looked at Rachel.

Kurt had never wanted that from any other man, and the realisation was stark now, cutting through him.

Against his will Kurt´s eyes rose to meet Blaine´s again. He was still looking at him.

Despite everything, Kurt knew the futility of his secret desires; the feelings within him were rising like a tidal wave and he was helpless to disguise them, caught by the look in Blaine´s eyes.

Kurt also knew, without being able to stop it, that Blaine was reading every raw and naked emotion on his face, in his eyes.

And as he watched, Blaine´s hazel eyes darkened to a glittering shade of deep gold with something so carnal and hot that Kurt instinctively put out a hand to search for something to cling onto, seriously fearful that his wobbly legs wouldn't support him.

Blaine had never looked at him with such explicit intensity…it had to be his imagination.

It was all too much…and here he was, pathetically projecting his own desires onto him…

It was only after a few seconds that Kurt realised Blaine had clasped his arm with a big, strong hand.

He was holding Kurt upright, supporting him…And right then Kurt knew that all his flimsy attempts to defend himself against Blaine for years were for naught.

The bastard had just seen through it all in an instant. Blaine had read his deepest desires like a book.

His humiliation was now complete.

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><p><strong>Yeyyy, I hope you guys like this one, leave me your lovely coments please they keep me going.<strong>

**Love LK**


	2. Chapter 1

**Soo I got exited today for no reason at all and decided to publish another chapter; hope you guys like it. **

**Btw did you know that writers die if they don't get reviews :o it´s a proved fact … I read it on tumblr ;D.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

One month later. Four Seasons Hotel, New York

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><p>Kurt felt even more like a piece of meat than usual, yet he clamped down on his churlish thoughts and pasted on his best professional smile as the bidding continued.<p>

The smack of the gavel beside him made Kurt flinch minutely.

The fact that the gavel was being wielded by a wellknown A-list Hollywood actor was not making the experience any easier.

Despite his years of experience as a top model, he was still acutely uncomfortable under scrutiny, but he had learnt to disguise it well.

'Twenty-five thousand. Twenty-five thousand dollars to the gentleman here in the front. Am I bid any higher?'

Kurt held his breath.

The man under the spotlight with the unctuous grin was a well-known Shipping magnate.

He was young, tall, thin and handsome, but he was a also a well know whore, and Kurt hated the way his beady obsidian eyes were devouring him as he practically licked his lips.

For a second Kurt felt intensely vulnerable and alone, standing here under the lights.

A shudder went through him. If someone else didn't…

'Ah! We've a bidder in the back…thirty thousand dollars from the new arrival.'

A rush of relief flooded Kurt and he tried to strain to see past the glaring spotlights to identify who the new bidder was.

It appeared as if the ballroom lighting technicians were trying to find him too, with the spotlight lurching from coiffed person to coiffed person, all of whom laughed and waved it away.

The bidder seemed determined to remain anonymous.

Well, Kurt comforted himself, whoever it was couldn't be any worse a prospect to kiss in front of all these people than Sebastian Smithe.

'And now Mr Smithe here in the front is bidding forty thousand dollars…things are getting interesting! Come on, People, let's see how deep your pockets are. How can you turn down a chance to kiss this handsome man and donate generously to charity?'

Kurt's stomach fell again at Sebastian's obvious determination…but then the actor spied movement in the shadows at the back.

'Fifty thousand dollars to the mysterious new bidder. Sir, won't you come forward and reveal yourself?'

No one came forward, though, and inexplicably the hairs rose on the back of Kurt's neck.

Then he saw the look of almost comic indignation on Sebastian´s face as he swivelled around to see who his competitor was.

The Man-whore's expression visibly darkened when someone leant low to speak in his ear.

He'd obviously just been informed as to the identity of the mysterious fellow bidder.

With an audible splutter Sebastian upped the ante by raising the bidding in a leap to one hundred thousand dollars.

Kurt held in his gasp at the extortionate amount, but his smile was faltering.

He became aware of the ripple of hushed whispers and a distinct frisson of excitement coming from the back; whoever this person was, he was creating quite a buzz.

And then whoever it was also calmly raised their bid—to a cool two hundred thousand dollars.

It didn't look as if his ordeal was going to end anytime soon.

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><p>Blaine Anderson wasn't used to grand, showy gestures.<p>

His very name was the epitome of discretion.

Discretion in everything: his wealth; his work; his life, and most definitely in his affairs.

He had a ten-year-old daughter.

He didn't live like a monk, but neither did he parade his carefully selected lovers through the tabloids in the manner so beloved of other men in his position: a divorced homosexual multi-billionaire male in the prime of his life.

None of his lovers had ever kissed and told. He made sure that any ex-partner was so well compensated he would never feel the need to break his trust.

Blaine always got out before any messy confrontations, and he always kept his private life very private.

None of his lovers ever met his daughter because he had no intention of marrying ever again, and to introduce them to Rosie would be to invite a level of intimacy that was reserved solely for his family: his daughter, sister and mother.

His lovers provided him with relief.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet here he was now, bidding publicly, albeit discreetly for the moment, in the name of charity, for a kiss with Kurt Hummel …one of the most photographed men in the world.

Because something in his mind and body was chafing, and for the first time in a long time he was thinking discretion could go fuck itself.

He wanted this man with a hunger he'd denied for too long.

A hunger he'd only recently given himself permission fully to acknowledge and to believe it could be sated.

And it had been a long time building…years.

He could see now that it had been building with a stealthy insidiousness into a subconscious need that was now very conscious…a burning necessity.

His mouth twisted; those years hadn't exactly been uneventful or allowed much time for contemplation.

A short-lived marriage and an acrimonious divorce, not to mention becoming a single parent, had taken up a large part of that time.

If he'd had the luxury of time on his hands he might have realised a lot sooner…He halted his thoughts.

It didn't matter.

He was here now.

His attention came back to Kurt, focused on Kurt, and he had the uncanny sensation of being in the right place at the right time.

It was a sensation he usually associated with business, not something more emotional

He corrected himself; this wasn't about emotion.

It was desire.

Unfulfilled desire.

Perhaps it was because he'd finally allowed himself to think of it again…that moment ten years ago…but it was as if the floodgates had opened on a dam.

It had been little more than a kiss, and yet it was engraved more hotly onto his memory than anything he'd experienced before or after.

It had taken all of his will-power and restraint to pull away from Kurt that night.

Since then Kurt had been strictly off-limits to him for myriad reasons: because that incendiary moment had shaken him up a lot more than he cared to admit; because he'd been so young and his little sister's best friend.

Blaine remembered the way his startlingly blue eyes had stared directly into his, as if he'd been able to see all the way into his soul.

As if he'd wanted him to see all the way into his.

Kurt had looked at him like that again only a few weeks ago.

And it had taken huge restraint for Blaine to allow him to retreat back into his shell, to ignore his intense desire.

Until now, when he knew he could get him on his own, could explore for himself if what he'd seen meant what he thought it did.

His sister's wedding had sparked off this burgeoning need, this awareness.

He hadn't been thrown into such close proximity to Kurt for years.

But all through the ceremony and subsequent reception he'd held Blaine back with that cool, frosty distance of his.

It was like being subjected to a chilly wind whistling over a deserted moor.

He'd always been aware of it…yet that day, for the first time in years, it had rankled.

His interest had been piqued.

Why was he always so cool,distant?

Admittedly they had a history that up until now he'd been quite happy not to unearth.

Blaine knew on some level that that night ten years ago had marked a turning point for him, and perhaps it was one of the reasons he'd found it so easy to relegate Kurt to a place he had no desire to reexplore.

Kurt´s studied indifference over the years had served to keep a lid on those disturbing memories.

And yet he knew he couldn't deny the fact that he'd always been aware of him…aware of how he'd blossomed from a slightly gauche teenager into a stunningly assured and beautiful man because Kurt wasn't handsome, he was fucking beautifull.

Blaine had thought he had that awareness and desire under control, but one night some years ago a guy had bumped into him in the street: caked in make-up, and wearing an outfit that was only a hair's breadth away from a stripper's.

The feel of his body slamming into him, his huge blue eyes looking straight up into his, had scrambled his brain and fired his libido so badly that he'd sent his date home that night with some pathetic excuse and hadn't been able to look at another man for weeks…turned on by a guy in a skanky outfit because he'd borne some resemblance to…

Blaine halted his wayward thoughts right there.

He chafed at the resurgence of something so minor he'd thought long forgotten…and at the implication that Kurt had occupied a bigger place in his mind than he'd admitted to himself.

He reassured himself that he'd had his own concerns keeping him more than occupied…and lovers who'd been only too warm and willing, making it easy to shut out the frosty indifference of one man.

Seeing Kurt just once or twice a year had hardly been conducive to stoking the embers of a latent desire.

But just a few weeks ago…at the baptism…Kurt had turned and looked at him and that cool facade had dropped for the first time.

He'd looked at him with such naked blatant need in those fathomless blue depths that Blaine had felt as if a truck had just slammed into him. For the first time Blaine had seen the heat of his passion under that all too cool surface.

It was a heat he hadn't seen since that night, when it had combusted all around them.

It could have ended so differently if he hadn't found a thread of control to cling onto.

In one instant, with one look, Blaine had been flung back in time, and all attempts to keep him off limits had been made redundant.

It was almost as if he'd been put to sleep after that night, and now, with a roaring, urgent sucking-in of oxygen, he was brought back to painful, aching life.

Kurt had clammed up again after a few moments, but it had been enough of a crack in his armour…

Blood heated and flowed thick through his veins as Blaine took him in now.

He was dressed in a dark blue suit, it was tight enough that showed off the strong line of his shoulders and his compact abdomen. His gorgeous hair—Kurt´s trademark—was coifed up perfectly framing his angelic face.

And even though Blaine was right at the back of the room those huge blue eyes stood out. His soft rose-pink lips were full, the firm line of his jaw and straight nose transforming banal prettiness into something much more formidable.

True beauty.

He was all angles and hard body but still managed to keep a sexy lushness that would have an effect on every gay man in that room and some women… something Blaine was very aware of.

Uncomfortably so.

He felt a proprietorial urge to go and sweep Kurt off that stage and out of everyone's sight.

It only firmed his resolve, strengthened his sense of right.

His eyes drifted down with leisurely and very male appreciation, taking in his magnificent ass, it was clear why he'd become one of the most sought-after models in the world.

Kurt was, quite simply, perfect.

He'd become a darling of the catwalks and was the face of a well-known lingerie company among countless other campaigns.

His cool, under-the-surface sensuality meant that people sometimes described him as cold.

But the problem was Blaine knew he wasn't.

He had the personal experience to know that Kurt was very, very hot.

Why had he waited so long for this?

Blaine clamped down on looking again at what had made him suppress his desire for so long… apart from the obvious reasons.

He dismissed the rogue notion that rose unbidden and unwelcome that he'd once touched something deep within him.

It must have been an illusion, borne up by the fact that they'd shared a moment in time, imbuing the experience with an enigmatic quality.

Kurt had displayed a self-possession at the age of eighteen that had stunned him slightly.

He had to remind himself that he'd overestimated Kurt´s naivety. Kurt had known exactly what he'd been doing then, and he was a grown man now.

Blaines's body tightened in anticipation.

He was a man of the world now …the kind of man he could seduce without remorse.

Kurt was no longer an innocent…A sharp pain lanced him briefly.

It felt awfully like regret, and Blaine crushed it back down.

He didn't do regret.

He would not let Kurt exert this sensual hold over him.

He would not let Kurt bring him back in time and reduce him to a mass of seething, frustrated desire with one look because of a kiss!

He would seduce him and sate this lust that had been burning for too long under the surface.

It was time to bring it out into the open.

All he could think about was how urgently he wanted to taste him again, touch him.

Kurt had once tried to seduce him.

Now it was Blaine´s turn.

And this time they wouldn't stop at a kiss.

His attention came back to the proceedings. He saw Smithe bid again. He had no intention of letting that man anywhere near Kurt's lush mouth. But the bastard was stubborn and out to prove a point…especially now that he'd been informed who it was bidding against him.

He and Sebastian were old adversaries.

Blaine casually made another bid, oblivious to the gasps and looks directed at him, oblivious to the whispers that came from nearby as people speculated if it was really him.

People's idle speculation and chatter was of little interest to him.

What was of interest was Kurt Hummel, as he stood there now, with his huge blue eyes staring straight at him but not seeing him.

He would…soon enough.

Sebastian Smithe finally admitted defeat with a terse shake of his head. A sense of triumph filled Blaine and it was heady.

He hadn't felt the sensation in a long time because triumph invariably came all too easily.

With no idea as to how much he'd finally bid for a kiss with Kurt, and not in the slightest bit fazed, he stepped out of the shadows and strode forward to collect his prize.

Not just the kiss he was now due, but so much more.

And he would collect…until he was sated and Kurt Hummel no longer exerted this mysterious pull over his every sense.

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><p>Kurt simply didn't believe his eyes at first.<p>

It couldn't be.

It just could not be Blaine Anderson striding powerfully through the seated awed crowd towards him, looking as dark and gorgeous as he'd ever seen him in a tuxedo.

Kurt´s face flamed guiltily; Blaine had been inhabiting his dreams for weeks…and a lot longer…jeered a taunting voice, which Kurt choose to ignore.

Only the previous night he'd woken shaken and very hot after a dream so erotic that he was sure it must be his rampant imagination conjuring Blaine up now.

Fervently hoping that it was just his imagination, he took him in: the formidable build…broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs…the athletic grace that hinted at his love for sports, his abhorrence of the gym.

Blaine´s hair was inky black, cut short, and it gave Blaine an air of sober maturity and distinction.

As if he even needed it.

Kurt knew his slightly darker skin came from his Spanish mother.

He felt weak inside, and hot.

Blaine´s face was uncompromising and hard. A strong jaw and proud profile saved it from being too prettily handsome.

He was male…more intensely male than any man he'd ever met.

Years and maturity had added to his strength, filled out his form, and it was all hard-packed muscle.

But his most arresting feature were his eyes…the strongest physical hint of his Spanish lineage. Every time Blaine looked at him Kurt felt as though he saw all the way through him, saw through the paltry defences he put up against him.

Kurt tried so hard to project a professional front around him, maintain his distance, knowing that if Blaine ever came near him he'd see in an instant how tenuous his control truly was.

And he had.

The memory sickened him.

Just a month ago, at Barbara's christening, Blaine had caught him in that unguarded moment when his naked desire for him had been painfully evident.

It had been just a look, but it had been enough.

He'd seen it, and ever since then Kurt had been having those dreams. Because he thought he'd seen a mirror of reaction in his eyes.

And yet he had to be wrong.

He wasn't his type…he might have been for a brief moment, a long time ago, but it had been an aberration.

A dart of familiar pain gripped him momentarily.

Kurt knew he wasn't his type because he'd seen one of his incredibly soignée boyfriends at close quarters, the memory of which made him burn with embarrassment even now.

He'd been out with a group of girlfriends, visiting him in New York from Dublin, celebrating a hen night.

Kurt, very reluctantly, had been dressed skanky outfit, that consisted in a very tight pants and nothing else, when he'd walked slap-bang into Blaine´s as he'd been emerging from an exclusive Madison Avenue restaurant, an arm protectively around a dark-haired beauty.

Kurt had felt about sixteen and fled, praying that Blaine hadn't recognised him.

And then, to add insult to the injury, one of his friends had chosen that moment to relieve the contents of her stomach in a gutter nearby…Kurt will never forget the look on Blaine's face, or his date's, just before they'd disappeared into the darkened interior of a waiting chauffeur-driven car.

Bitter frustration at his weak and pathetic response to Blaine burned him inside.

Would Blaine´s hold over him never diminish? And now he was imagining him here, walking towards him, up the steps.

Coming closer.

Desperation made him feel panicky.

When would the world right itself and the real person be revealed?

Someone else.

Someone who wasn't Blaine Anderson.

Kurt was barely aware of the Hollywood actor speaking in awed tones beside him, but when he said the name Blaine Anderson everything seemed to zoom into focus and Kurt´s heart stopped altogether.

Reaction set in.

It was him…and he was now on the stage, coming closer and closer, his eyes narrowed and intent on Kurt.

Kurt's instinct where this man was concerned was always to run, as far and as fast as possible.

And yet here and now he couldn't.

He was caught off guard, like a deer in the headlights.

And alongside the very perverse wish that he could be facing anyone else—even sleazy Sebastian …was the familiar yearning, burning feeling he got whenever this man came near.

'Kurt.' His voice was deep, achingly familiar, and it impacted on Kurt´s somewhere vulnerable inside, where he felt his pulse jump and his heart start again.

'Fancy meeting you here.'

Somehow he found his voice…a voice.

'Blaine…that was you?'

He nodded, his eyes never leaving Kurt´s.

Kurt had the strongest sensation that he'd been running from this man for a long time and now it was over.

But in actual fact he'd caught him a long time ago.

A wicked coil of something hot snaked through Kurt´s belly even as he clamped down desperately on every emotion and any outward sign of his effect on him.

With a smooth move he didn't see coming, Blaine came close and put his hands around his waist, thumbs disturbingly close to the swell of his ass.

His touch was so shocking after years of avoiding any contact beyond the most perfunctory that Kurt automatically put his hands out to steady himself, and found himself clasping Blaine´s upper arms.

Powerful muscles were evident underneath the expensive cloth of his suit.

His belly melted and he looked up helplessly, still stunned to be facing him like this.

Shock was rendering his usual defences around Blaine useless.

He was so tall; he'd always been one of the few men that Kurt had to look up to. He towered over him now, making Kurt feel small, delicate.

He was aware of every slow second passing, aware of their breaths, but he knew rationally that things were happening in real time, and that no one was aware of the undercurrents flowing between them.

At least he hoped they weren't.

'I believe you owe me a kiss?'


	3. Chapter 2

**hello! i am so sorry for the time it took for this chapter to be published life it's a mean bitch. any way i´ll ****be updating my other history too this weekend, and i hope some of you are still reading this.**

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><p>"I believe you owe me a kiss?"<p>

This was said lightly, but Blaine's grip on his waist was warm and firm, warning him not to try and run. Kurt nodded, feeling utterly bewildered; what else could he do in front of the wealthiest, most powerful people in New York? How much had Blaine paid in the end?

Kurt had forgotten already. But it had been a shockingly high amount.

Half a million dollars?

Kurt had the very strong feeling that Blaine was claiming far more than a kiss, and yet he felt the need and desire burn strongly within him.

Blaine pulled him closer, until their bodies were almost touching, and all Kurt could feel was that heat—within him and around him. It climbed up his chest and into his face as Blaine's head lowered.

Overwhelmed at being ambushed like this, and feeling very bewildered, Kurt fluttered his eyes closed as the man he'd failed so abysmally to erase from his memory pressed his firm, sensual mouth against his.

It had been ten years since they'd kissed like this, and suddenly Kurt was eighteen again, pressing his lips ardently against Blaine's, hoping to entice him into far more than a simple kiss.

But just as it started, Blaine pulled away from him. Kurt put a shaky finger to his mouth, which still felt sensitive.

Even though as kisses went, this one had been chaste enough, fleeting enough, but the effect had been pure devastation.

He'd been hurtled back in time and all the memories he worked so hard to block out came rushing back.

Dizzy with the after-effects, Kurt had stood there smiling inanely as they had been grabbed for photos with the press pack behind the stage straight after Blaine had claimed his kiss. Blaine's hand had been warm on his elbow, his presence overwhelming. It was still a complete mystery to Kurt why he was here at all, but he hadn't even had the courage to stick around and make small talk.

A flare of guilt assailed him; he'd fled as it was usual whenever he was around Blaine, as soon as he'd had the chance.

Exactly like that night on the street.

Bitter recrimination burned him. Kurt was falling apart every time he saw him now, and if he hadn't already made an ass of himself in France, mooning at him like a lovesick groupie, then tonight would certainly have Blaine wondering what on earth was wrong with him.

How was it possible that instead of growing immune to Blaine, he was growing ever more aware of him?

Where was the law of physics in that?

So Kurt had fled, not really thinking about where he was going, and now he realised that he was in the hotel bar, with its floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a glittering view of New York in all its night-time glory.

The sound of a siren wailing somewhere nearby failed to root him in reality. The bar was blissfully dark and quiet. A pianist played soothing jazz in the corner.

Kurt took a seat at a table by the window. And as usual after a few minutes someone approached looked up, thinking it would be the waiter, but it was a stranger—a man. He was wearing a suit and looked a little the worse for wear, to be honest it looked hideous.

'Excuse me, but my friend and I—' he gestured behind him to the other man at the bar, who waved cheerfully '—we agreed that you're the prettiest man we've ever seen. Can we buy you a drink?'

Kurt smiled tightly, his nerve ends jangling. 'Thanks, really…but if you don't mind I'm happy to get my own drink.'

He swayed unsteadily, with a look of affront on his face, before lurching back to his friend.

Then he saw the other men make a move towards him, as if taking up the baton. He cursed his impulse to come here, and turned his face resolutely to the window, hoping that would deter him.

He heard a movement, a deep voice, and then a looming dark shape materialised in the glass.

Kurt looked up and saw the face of his dreams reflected above his own.

Disembodied.

Throat dry, he looked round and up. Blaine stood there, looking straight at him, eyes so golden and cold that somehow contrasted beautifully against his dark skin.

Kurt's heart leapt; his palms dampened. A waitress appeared next to Blaine, and when she asked if they'd like a drink Blaine just looked at Kurt and said, 'Two Irish whiskeys?'

Kurt nodded helplessly, and watched as Blaine took the seat opposite to him, undoing his bow tie as he did so and opening the top button on his shirt with the confidence only a man like him could posses.

His voice, that distinctive accent with its unmistakable Spanish roots, affected Kurt somewhere deep inside.

Blaine jerked his head back towards the men sitting at the bar. 'You could have sent me packing too. They must be devastated.'

A dart of irritation and anger sparked through Kurt at Blaine, for being here and upsetting his equilibrium.

His voice came out tight. 'I know you. I don't know them.'

Blaine's brow quirked. A hint of a smile played around his mouth. Kurt felt very exposed in his suit. It was nearly painted on him, and he could feel Blaine's eyes sliding along his long frame.

Kurt strove for calm, to be polite, urbane. This was his best friend's brother, that was all. They'd bumped into each other. That was all. At least on the surface of things.

He wouldn't think about what was happening under the surface, the minefield of history that lay buried there. Kurt smiled, but it felt so fake and forced.

'What brings you to New York, Blaine?'

Blaine's eyes narrowed. He could see very well that Kurt was retreating into that cool shell he knew so well. The shell that for years had deflected his attention, made him believe he didn't desire him.

But he knew better now, and he saw the pulse under the pale skin of his neck beat hectically even as he projected a front so glacial he could swear the temperature had dropped a few degrees.

Blaine fought the urge to say, You, and instead drawled, 'Business. Rach mentioned you were here for the annual Cancer benefit.' He shrugged easily deciding not to divulge the fact that he'd specifically booked into the same hotel as him. 'I'm staying here too, so I thought I'd come look for you. It would seem that I found you just in time.'

A vision of being kissed and groped by Sebastian Smythe came back into Kurt's head. He lowered his head slightly. Some of his hair slipped forward over his forehead. He could feel Blaine's eyes on him, and berated himself for not going straight to his room.

What had compelled him to come here? He forced himself to look up. He couldn't go anywhere now.

'Yes. I never thanked you for that.' And then curiosity got the better of him. 'How much did you pay in the end?'

'You don't remember?

Kurt face burned as he shook his head, knowing very well why he didn't remember.

Blaine seemed to savour his words. 'Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And worth every cent.'

It would be.

Blaine watched his reaction, the shock on his beautiful face, those amazing Glasz eyes framed with the longest black lashes. Saw the way the candlelight flickered over his satin-smooth skin, his long legs and amazing chest.

His body hardened and Blaine shifted, uncomfortably aware that he wasn't used to men having such an immediate effect on him. He enjoyed always being in control, and yet he could already feel that control becoming a little shaky, elusive…Sitting here with Kurt now, he wanted desperately to peel off his clothes, to kiss him senseless, to mark every part of that perfect skin, to see him lost in his pleasure... God ... the thrill of anticipation was heavier than anything he'd felt in a long time.

He'd paid over half a million dollars, just like that. The amount staggered Kurt, and yet he knew that for Blaine it was like small change. That was a fraction of what he gave to charity every year.

'At least it's for a good cause,' Kurt said a little shakily.

The waitress arrived then, with two glasses. She placed napkins down, and then the drinks, and left.

Blaine reached out a strong, long-fingered hand and raised his glass towards Kurt, an enigmatic gleam in his eyes. 'A very good cause.'

Kurt raised his glass too and clinked it off his. He had the very disturbing impression that they weren't talking about the same thing.

Just then Blaine's fingers touched his, and a memory flashed into his head: his arms wrapped tight around Blaine's neck, tongues touching and tasting. The sweet sensation of Blaine's hands moving to his ass, pulling him in tight so Kurt could feel the thrillingly hard ridge of his arousal. He could almost hear their heartbeats, slow and heavy, then picking up pace, drowning out their heavy breathing, the low moan that escaped his lips—

Kurt jerked his hand back so quickly that some of his drink slopped out of the glass. His skin felt stretched tight, hot. He couldn't believe this was happening... What the hell was wrong with him!. It was like his worst nightmare and his most fervent dream.

Kurt took a quick sip, all the while watching Blaine as he watched him, hoping that he couldn't read the turmoil in his head, in his chest. The whiskey trickled like liquid velvet down his throat.

Kurt wasn't used to this, that was all. Blaine didn't seek him out. He only ever saw him with Rachel, or when lots of people were around. When Rachel had lived with him in New York and Blaine had called round or invited them out to dinner Kurt had always made an excuse, always made sure he wasn't there as much as possible.

But facing him now…that kiss earlier…he was helpless to escape the images threatening to burst through the walls he'd placed around them.

Blaine leant back, stretching out his strong legs, cradling his glass as if this were completely normal, as if they met like this all the time. The latent strength in his body was like a tangible thing.

Kurt had to close his eyes for a second as he battled against the vision of Blaine pulling back from kissing him, breathing harshly, his lips red, shiny and swollen from the kiss—

'So, Kurt, how have you been?'

Kurt's eyes snapped open. Normally he managed to keep all this under control, but it was almost as if some silent communication was going on that he knew nothing about—something subversive that he was not in control of, messing with his head.

He'd never been so tense. But he told himself he could do this—do the small-talk thing. And after this drink he'd make his excuses and get up and walk away—not see Blaine for another few months, or even a year if he was lucky.

So he nodded and smiled his most professional smile, injecting breeziness into his voice. 'Fine. Great! Wasn't Barbra's christening just gorgeous? I can't believe how big she is already. Finn and Rachel are so happy. Have you seen them since? I've been crazy busy. I had to go to South America straight after the baptism. I got back tonight for the benefit'

He took a deep, audibly shaky breath, intending to keep going with his monologue, thinking Just talk fast and get out of here even faster, when Blaine leant forward and said with quiet emphasis,'Kurt—stop.'

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><p><strong>let me know what you think <strong>

**lots of love to you all**

**LK**


	4. Chapter 3

**Sorry that's all I'm going to say. **

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><p>KURT'S mouth opened and closed. With just those two words he knew that Blaine was seeing right through him—again.<p>

Silly tears pricked the backs of his eyes. Blaine was playing with him, mocking him for his weakness, as if he'd known all along. So Kurt asked the question, even though he knew it would give him away completely,'Blaine, what are you really doing here?'

His face was shuttered, eyes unreadable. The dim lights cast him half in shadow, making him look dark and dangerous. Like a Spanish pirate. His shoulders looked huge and Kurt's insides ached as only the way a body recognising its mate ached. Its other half.

Kurt had tried to convince himself that what had happened between them hadn't been unique, hadn't been as earth-shattering as he remembered, but…it had.

Since that night, no one had ever kissed him the way Blaine had—with such devastating skill that he'd never been able to get over him. Blaine had imprinted himself so deeply into his cells.

With just one kiss, a mere moment, that was all it had been, but it had been enough.

Kurt repeated the question now, a throb of desperation mixed with anger in his voice, he even leaned forward, put his glass down. He wanted to shout at Blaine, to beg him to just leave him alone, let him get on with his life so he could realise his dream: find someone to love. Have a family. Finally get over him.

'What are you doing here, Blaine? We both know—'

'We both know why I'm here.' His voice was harsh. The piano player was between numbers, and the words hung almost accusingly in the soft silence. Time seemed to hang suspended, and then the piano player started again and so did Kurt's heart, and he desperately tried to claw back some self-control and pretend that Blaine wasn't referring to that night.

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

Blaine took a swift drink and leaned forward to put his empty glass down on the table. The sound made Kurt flinch inside.

'You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. That explicit look you gave me in France, and what didn't happen that night.'

Oh, God.

Kurt felt the colour drain from his face. He was officially in his worst nightmare. He knew Blaine had seen his weakness in France—but he just hadn't been able to hide it. And if Blaine Anderson was known for anything, it was for sensing weakness and exploiting it ruthlessly.

Kurt forced himself to meet Blaine's gaze, even though it was hard, and his voice came out low and husky. 'That night was a long time ago—and you're right. Nothing happened—' he stopped ineffectually.

What could he say? If you're thinking if I still want you, even after a humiliating rejection, then you're right. Bitterness rose within him. God he was so stupid.

Blaine was still sitting forward—predatory, dangerous. He said softly, in that deep voice, 'I'd call that kiss something happening, and that look told me that you've been just as aware of this buildup of sexual tension as I have.'

Kurt shook his head fiercely, as if that could negate this whole experience. Shame coursed through him again at his youthful naïvety, and yet his body tingled even now, when humiliation hung over him like the Sword of Damocles.

Why was he bringing this up now? Was he bored? Did Blaine think he'd seen an invitation in his eyes that day at the christening? Kurt burned inside at the thought and rushed to try to fill the silence, to regain some dignity.

'Blaine, like I said, it was a long time ago. I barely remember it, and I have no intention of ever talking about it or repeating the experience. I was very young.'

And a virgin. That unwanted spiking of regret shocked Blaine again, and suddenly the thought of other men looking at Kurt, touching his lovely skin ,making him moan, made him feel almost violent…

Blaine said nothing for a long moment. He couldn't actually speak as he looked into clear Blue eyes. They were like drops of ice but they couldn't cool him down.

Blaine fought the urge to reach across the table and pull him up, crush his mouth under his, taste him again.

Instead he finally said, 'You're a liar Kurt, and that's such a pity.'

Kurt felt winded, breathless. The way Blaine was looking at him was so hot, so carnal —but he didn't think for a second that it meant anything. He didn't know why Blaine was bringing this up now. He just wanted to stay in one piece until he could get away.

'I'm not a liar,' he asserted, and then frowned when he registered what Blaine had said. 'And what do you mean, it's a pity?'

Blaine sat back again, and perversely that made Kurt more nervous than when he'd been closer.

'You're a liar because I believe you do remember every second of that kiss, as well as I do, and it's a pity you don't intend repeating it because I'd very much like to.'

Kurt sat straight and tall. He wasn't ten years old. He was an internationally renowned model: successful, independent. Yet he felt cornered, and had to struggle so hard to cling onto what was real: the pianist was playing a familiar tune, the dark, muted tones of the bar, the lights glittering and twinkling outside.

The waitress appeared again, and Kurt could see Blaine gesture for another drink. Blaine's eyes hadn't left his, and Kurt thought that he might have misheard him. He might have said something entirely different. But then he remembered the way Blaine's hands had felt around his waist earlier, how close his thumbs had brushed to his nipples.

The way Blaine had looked at him. The way he was looking at him now.

Ten years after one moment with this man and he was a quivering wreck. Despite a full and busy life, despite relationships…If Blaine had decided, for whatever reason, that he wanted him, and if he acquiesced, it would be like opening the door, flinging it wide open with a smile on his face and inviting catastrophe to move in for ever.

If he was this bad after a kiss, what would he be like after succumbing to the sensual invitation that was in Blaine's eyes right now? Because that look said that a kiss would be the very least of the experience. And awfully, treacherously, any insecurity Kurt had harboured since that night about his own sexual appeal died. But it was a small comfort. Blaine had rejected his clumsy, innocent advances and he had to remember that—no matter how he might be making him feel right now.

The fact that this moment was a direct manifestation of his most secret fantasies was making Kurt reel. The waitress came and deposited more drinks, taking away the empty glasses. Kurt shook his head, feeling his hair move across too sensitive skin.

He knew all about Blaine Anderson— he'd always known all about him. One of the perks of being best friends with his sister. So Kurt knew well how he compartmentalized women, how he inevitably left them behind. He'd witnessed his ruthless control first-hand.

Kurt wouldn't, couldn't allow that to happen again. Not even when his softly spoken words had set up a chain reaction in his body that he'd been ignoring for the past few earth-shattering seconds.

Kurt shook his head harder, even smiled faintly, as if sharing in a joke, as if this whole evening wasn't costing him everything.

'I don't think you mean that for a second.' He took a drink from his glass, put it down again and looked at Blaine. 'And even if you did, like I said, I have no desire to re-enact that kiss for your amusement. If all you're looking for is a convenient man, there are plenty available. You don't need me. I don't think I need to remind you that you made your rejection of my advances quite plain that night.'

Blaine was surprised at his sudden confidence—and at his reminder of his stupid rejection. That feeling of regret spiked uncomfortably again. Kurt's smile was almost mocking—as if he pitied him! Blaine had never been an object of pity, and he wasn't about to start being one now.

Blaine smiled tightly and saw Kurt's eyes widen, the pulse trip in his throat.

'I rejected you because you were inexperienced, too young, and my little sister's best friend.' His jaw clenched. 'Not because I didn't desire you, as you may well remember. I'm looking for a lot more than a re-enactment of that kiss, and believe me, I don't expect it to be amusing. I'm not looking for a convenient lay, Kurt. I'm looking for you.'

All of Kurt's precious composure crumbled at his raw words.

'You can't possibly mean that…that you—'

'Want you?' Blaine almost grimaced, as if in pain. 'I want you, Kurt. As much as you want me.'

'I don't.' Kurt breathed.

Blaine arched a brow. 'No? Then what was that look about at the christening, when you all but devoured me with your hungry blue eyes? And the way you trembled earlier under my hands?'

Kurt flushed brick-red. 'Come on Blaine, i was sleepy at the christening, and cold today, don't be ridiculous .' This was too cruel. His humiliation knew no bounds.

Blaine grimaced again. 'I don't believe you for a second, but don't worry. It's mutual.' His hazel eyes speared Kurt's coming closer to him.'You've never forgotten that night, Kurt, have you? just the same as I can take the image of you shaking in my arms, begging for my cock.'

Kurt shook his head, his intuition sending shockwaves through his whole body. 'Stop it Blaine. It was so long ago…of course I've forgotten about it…' he hitched up his chin defiantly. 'I've more than kissed men since then, I've let them touch me, take me. What did you think? That I've hugged my pillow to sleep every night, dreaming of you?'

Blaine's mouth had become a thin line of displeasure. 'I don't want to hear about your lovers Kurt. I don't want to think about it, and in the end it doesn't really matter.'

He reached out and took Kurt's hand, gripped it so tightly that he couldn't pull away, and he was caught, trapped by his own weak responses: lust, and the building of guilty exhilaration. Kurt's heart beat frantically against his chest

'Do you know why baby?" Blaine touched Kurt's cheek and he could help but to close his eyes and moan at the sensation as he shook his head. " Because i know that none of them made you feel the way I did after just a kiss. I know that they didn't make you want them so badly that it was all you could think about, Dream about.'

Blaine felt momentarily shocked by his words and the emotion behind them; until recently, until he'd set on this course to seduce Kurt, he'd never really allowed himself to acknowledge what his effect on him had been. Touching him now, confronting this for the first time, was bringing it all back in vivid detail. His hand felt so soft and yet strong. Blaine could feel Kurt's pulse beating under the skin.

Kurt opened his eyes and a red mist descended. The exhilaration dissipated. Blaine's words were so close to the bone— too close to the bone. He pulled his hand from his grasp and curled it tight against his chest.

'How dare you? How dare you come back into my life like this, making assumptions? Judgements? Asking me about things you've no right to know?'

Blaine looked at him and felt more sure than ever. 'I have a right, Kurt, because one kiss clearly wasn't enough. This has been building between us all these years…this desire to know what it might have been like.'

Anger rushed through Kurt's body, gathering force, and he used it before it dissolve again. He stood up on shaky legs and looked down as imperiously as he could. But then Blaine stood too, altering the dynamic, taking some of the fire out of his anger, making Kurt remember just how tall he was, how broad and strong.

Kurt hitched his chin and whispered angrily. 'Fuck you Blaine you think you have a right to me just because i used to want you? I was eighteen back then, i know better now, and I have no intention of becoming a notch on your bedpost just to satisfy some belated curiosity on your part.'

Kurt walked around the table, as if to leave, but Blaine moved too and blocked his way. Kurt saw a couple of people looking at them in his peripheral vision. He stalled and looked up, tried to shut out the way looking into Blaine's eyes had always made him feel as if he was drowning.

he gritted his teeth.

'Get the hell out of my way? You're blocking my exit.'

'Need I remind you,' Blaine said silkily, 'that you were the one so determined to score that notch in the first place?We both know that if I hadn't stopped when I still could I would have taken your innocence on the floor of that forest…'

Those softly spoken words smashed through the last vestiges of Kurt's dignity. He looked up at Blaine and fought with everything in him not to break down in front of this man. 'You are an asshole, Blaine. now get out of my way, this conversation is over.

Blaine shook his head. 'I'm walking you to your room.'

'The hell you are, I'm perfectly capable of walking myself, and I have no intention of being in your presence for one more second.'

Blaine's voice had steel running through it. 'Nevertheless, I'll walk you to your room—or do you want me to make a spectacle of both of us and carry you out of here?'

One jet-black brow was arched. Kurt didn't doubt him for a second. Blaine would always do whatever it takes to get what he wants.

Kurt felt unbelievably mad as he bit out, 'That won't be necessary. You can escort me to my room if you insist.'

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><p><strong>hope you guys liked this chapter, sorry for ending it there, I have to sleep a few hours before going to the hospital.<strong>

**Love u guys and again I'm sorry for disappearing for so long.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hi guys, I' going to confess that this chapter was written inside a on call room, while I was hiding from my Resident. :D But any way i hope you guys like this one, and please leave me your reviews they make me really happy.**

**PD: thanks Xx-Erin-xX-AthrunxCagallifan I'm glad you like my writing**

**elshie.k i am ok sweetheart i just work at a hospital :D **

**SilverWhiteDragon that question is soon to be answered**

**gg42 glad you like it,**

** anderpson thank u, i love him even though he is a bit of an asshole right now. but he will get better i promise.**

**and finally to pukaroxliza thank u for the advise on everything, i must confess in the beginning i was going to name Rachel's baby Molly, because i just love that name, but then i thought Barbra would be a more accurate name, but i just keep going back to Molly ...Uppss anyway i already fixed, but thank u for letting me know my mistake. and i am upgrading the story to M, because SEXY TIMES ARE COMING.**

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><p>Blaine finally moved aside to let him pass, and Kurt stalked towards the entrance of the bar feeling stiff all over, his shoulders so straight and tense that he felt as if he'd crack if someone even touched him.<p>

He pressed the button for the lift and looked resolutely up at the display above the door as he waited. Blaine stood beside him, a huge, impossibly immovable force. Desire and anger crackled between them. There was such tension in the air that Kurt wanted to scream.

No one reduced him to this.

No one.

Kurt Hummel was dignified, calm, collected. He knew he had a reputation for being cool and it hurt —he was the least cold of people. He could turn it on when it suited him, it was a mechanism of defense, but it wasn't really him.

The lift arrived and the bell pinged, making Kurt jump and then curse silently. Blaine's disturbing presence and even more disturbing assertions were effortlessly peeling of every single one of his defenses.

Blaine stepped into the lift with him, and the space contracted around them when the doors closed. Kurt pressed the button for his floor and looked at Blaine irritably when he didn't make a move to do the same. 'Which floor?'

Blaine looked at Kurt glaring up at him. God he was so beautiful. All fire and brimstone underneath that icy facade. His eyes were flashing, his cheeks were pink and his gorgeous chest rose and fell enticingly under his suit, that damn-painted-on-that-was-making-his-blood-boil suit. Kurt was rattled, seriously rattled, and he had to admit he was surprised at what was so close to the surface.

In truth he'd imagined this happening much more easily. He'd imagined a sophisticated man like Kurt will embark on an arrangement like the one he was offering with ease, both of them knowing and acting out their parts. But now he was rattled too. Kurt was resisting him. And still, he looked so sexy, Blaine simply couldn't think.

All he wanted was to stop the lift, drag Kurt into his arms and plunder his soft mouth. It had been too long since he'd tasted that inner sweetness, and the brief all too chaste kiss earlier had only proved to make his desire even more pronounced.

But he knew he couldn't.

He had to tread carefully or he might lose Kurt for ever—and he didn't like the panicky feeling that generated.

Blaine Anderson didn't do panic.

Kurt turned and folded his arms crossly, inadvertently giving Blaine an even more enticing view of his arms. He was sending out desperate silent vibes: Get away from me! Leave me alone! And as the lift climbed the floors with excruciating slowness that was exactly what Blaine did.

He actually moved further away. Back towards the wall. And when Kurt sent him a suspicious glance he saw that he was leaning back, hands in his pockets, looking at the ceiling. He was even whistling softly.

The lift finally came to a smooth halt and Kurt all but ran out through the doors, taking his door key from his pocket as he did so. Kurt expected Blaine to be right behind him. He'd seen a new side to him tonight: implacable, ruthless. Determined.

It freaked him out. but it also excited him.

He got to his door and slid the key into the slot, his hands barely steady after that revelation. But if Blaine thought for a second that he was going to meekly turn around now and invite him in— Kurt turned and pasted on a bright smile, words trembling on his lips…only to find the corridor empty.

For a split second he had the bizarre and terrifying notion that he'd imagined the whole thing. Dreamt it all up.

But then Kurt saw him. Leaning against the open lift door nonchalantly, one foot stopping it from closing, his huge shoulders blocking the light inside. That was why Kurt hadn't seen him straight away.

Blaine inclined his head, 'Goodnight, Kurt, it was good to see you again. Sweet dreams.'

And with that he stepped back in and the doors closed with a swish. Kurt's mouth dropped open. All he could see in his mind's eye was that nonchalance and the bright dangerous glitter of hazel eyes under dark brows.

All his pent-up fury dissolved and he literally sagged like a spent balloon. Kurt stepped inside his door and closed it, stood with his back against it in the dark for a long moment. His heart beat fast, his skin tingled and his lips still felt sensitive. And yet more than all this was the ache of desire.

He felt raw, as if a wound had been reopened.

Stupid Blaine Anderson. He was playing him. Kurt didn't believe for a second that he was going to meekly walk away. No more than he would have meekly let him into his room. He was undoubtedly the most Alpha male he'd ever known. He always had been. He'd been born Alpha.

And Kurt had set him a challenge with his refusal to acknowledge what had happened between them. There was no sense of excitement in knowing this, no sense of anticipation. He'd been affected so badly by the brief sexual encounter he had with Blaine in the past. He'd spent too long disguising his feelings, pretending to himself that he didn't want him. Hiding it from others, even from Rachel.

Kurt couldn't help but feel—knowing Blaine's reputation, which was legendary albeit discreet—that he was posing a challenge to him in large part because he'd let him get away.

Was this the banal satisfaction of some long-forgotten curiosity? Kurt knew well that there would be a very small number on Blaine Anderson's list of men who had resisted his charms, for whatever reason. Kurt had the uncanny prescience that his might be the only name.

And yet that night it had been Blaine who had stopped proceedings, not him. Blaine was absolutely right; if he'd had any say that night ten years ago they would have made love on that forest.

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><p>Blaine stood at the window of the sitting room in his luxurious suite. The best in the hotel. He felt hot and frustrated, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers as he looked out at the view, not seeing a bit of it.<p>

All he could see was his own reflection in the window and the slightly tortured look on his face—tortured because Kurt Hummel was lying in bed some floors below him in the very same hotel, and right now Blaine would have gladly given over every last penny he owned to be in that bed with him.

Kurt had emerged from the mists of memory to assume a place that no other man had ever assumed. He could smell his light sweet and yet masculine scent even now. And yet he'd walked away, resisted him.

Still Blaine was confused, he couldn't remember a time when any man he'd wanted had resisted him. He was well aware that this didn't happen because he was so damn irresistible, he was almost never rejected, because he knew how to choose his lovers, he only got involved with men that were searching for the same thing as him, a way to relieve some tension, to have fun, with absolutely no strings attached and no feelings involved.

He avoided feelings like the plague because he knew how most of those relationships ended up. His mother had dealt him his first lesson. Cold and martyred. He'd seen how she'd made life hell for his loving father. Not happy to have been brought to inclement Ireland from her native Spain, she'd subjected his father and him to the frost of her discontent, and eventually breaking his father's heart by throwing herself into the arms of another man.

Blaine could remember his poor father begging her to stay, how he would cajole and plead with her. He'd

witnessed those scenes as he'd played outside his father's office, listening to the cold, manipulative sound of his mother's voice.

He forced his mind away from dark memories. He'd witnessed too much as a child and because of that He'd vowed long ago not to be at the mercy of any man, and yet despite everything, all his lessons learnt, he'd been caught too. Rage still simmered down low in acknowledgement of that.

A ripple of cynicism went through him. Even in Kurt's innocence ten years ago he'd been manipulative too, just like his mother. His innocence had been hidden beneath a veneer of sophistication that had fooled him completely until the moment he'd felt that hesitation. A telling gaucheness, an untutored response. It had cut through the haze of lust that had clouded his judgment that night.

Blaine could remember the spiking of betrayal and desperation he'd felt. He'd believed him to be experienced. For a second he'd been seduced into believing them to be on equal ground, both knowing what was happening.

Certainly there'd been no indication when Kurt had found him alone near the lake that surrounded his father's cabin. He'd offered Kurt a beer and he'd taken it…His hair had gleamed like spun gold in the moonlight. There had been a fourth of July party going on in the house and Blaine had been making a rare home visit…

Kurt had been wearing dark red shorts and a nearly transparent white T-shirt. So damn tight, that it had clung to his chest like a lover caress. His long legs had been endless in those shorts and he had taken the beer and smiled at him, and for the first time Blaine had allowed himself to really notice him.

Fuck if he had to be honest with himself he'd noticed Kurt before—of course he had—he'd have to have been dead not to. He'd always been there strictly as his sister's friend. But ever since Kurt tuned sixteen Blaine hadn't been able to look away from him.

It was a quality that most eighteen-year-old's didn't have. But he'd had to concede that Kurt had always possessed a quiet air of mature dignity, of inherent sophistication. A quiet foil to Rachel's rowdiness and effervescence.

Back then Rachel, had just come through a traumatic time after the relatively recent death of their father, and Blaine had taken the opportunity to thank Kurt for being there for her.

Kurt had blushed and looked down into his bottle before looking back up, something fierce in his eyes. 'I love Rach. She's the closest thing I have to a sister and I'd do anything for her.'

Blaine could remember smiling at him, seeing Kurt's eyes widen in response, and then the flare of his arousal had hit so strong and immediate that it had nearly knocked him sideways. The air around them had changed in an instant, crackling with sexual tension. Even though Blaine had tried to deny it, to regain some sanity.

Standing there with his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, his delicate body firing up his senses…He could remember how choked his voice had felt with the need to push Kurt away when all he'd wanted to do was kiss him into oblivion.

'You know I've always considered you like family, Kurt.'

For an infinitesimal moment Kurt had just looked at him, and then he'd carefully put down the drink and come closer to him, his blue eyes glittering, pupils huge. And he'd said huskily, 'I don't see you as a brother, Blaine. And I don't want you to see me as one.'

His arousal had sky-rocketed. On some level Blaine hadn't been able to believe he was being so wound up by an eighteen-year-old boy. But in fairness Kurt wasn't like other eighteen-year-olds. he'd already been a model for a couple of years, and was already making his own fortune.

Yet he couldn't believe he was standing there and seducing him. Or how out of his depth he felt in that moment. At the age of twenty-eight he was no novice around men, but he'd felt like one then.

Kurt had stepped right up to him and placed his soft and lovely hands around his face. Then, stretching up, he'd pressed his mouth to Blaine's. He'd put his hands on Kurt's waist, to try and set him back—but he'd felt his heat, and then Kurt had leaned closer into him, his hard chest pressed against his…and Blaine had been lost. From that moment he had been overtaken for the first time in his life by pure, unadulterated lust.

It had felt like the most necessary thing in the world to pull him even closer, to deepen the kiss, to taste him all over.

Blaine felt intoxicated by Kurt. He was drowning, he pulled away from him just enough to see his how his blue eyes had darkened, how his expression had grown heavy with desire as he pressed him against a tree."your Dad will kill me."

They had been hidden in the shadows from the house, sheltered. The heat of summer and lust had wrapped around them. "I won't tell him," Kurt had whispered, his palms smoothing up his chest under Blaine's shirt, feeling the prickle of the light growth of body hair that spread over his torso as Blaine's hands had gripped his hips, pulling him against his thighs.

"He'll know I touched you." Blaine's lips had quirked into a smile. "You're like pure, raw liquor, Kurt. And you are driving me crazy." His lips had covered Kurt's, his tongue teasing him as he sampled his kiss .

Blaine had kissed him as though he were starved for him. One hand had curled in his soft hair, the other had cupped his ass, their moans whispering together as the summer night enfolded them...

Fuck, He just couldn't think about this, Blaine's focus came back from the heat of that memory. The vividness of it shocked him. He knew if he was asked he wouldn't be able to recall his last sexual liaison with such clarity.

He stepped away from the window with a jerky movement and did the only thing he could do to make sure he'd have a modicum of sleep that night. He took a cold shower and vowed to himself as he did so that very soon he'd have Kurt Hummel in his bed—once that had happened these provocative memories would return to where they belonged: in the past.

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><p><strong>i'll go now, and hide under a bed from my resident :D<strong>

**love you guys thank's for the reviews feel free to give me more (i just love them, and you can't blame me :P)**


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